HAIDI AND GIULIANO GIULIANI
WITH ANTONELLA MARRONE
A YEAR WITHOUT CARLO
************°°°°°°°************
Genoa, 20th of July 2001: during the clashes between police and anti-G8 demonstrators somebody fired two pistol shots from the back of a carabinieri Land Rover in Piazza Alimonda. One of the shots hit Carlo Giuliani, a 23-year-old demonstrator full in the face and killed him. Carlo had a fire extinguisher in his hands.
A year later - a year of political and legal controversies, investigations by the Genoa attorney’s office and parliamentary commissions of enquiry, false trails and coups de theatre, - journalist Antonella Marrone met Carlo’s parents, Haidi and Giuliano, to talk about how their lives had changed since the death of their son. This book, a sort of diary of the past and present, a collection of interwoven thoughts and memories, is the result.
A year without Carlo is about a father and mothers’ search for the truth. A year of patiently examining photos, films and documents on Genoa. A year in which desperation is channelled into action, in which the Giulianis see it as their moral duty to speak out and appeal directly to peoples’ consciences (in schools, trade union meetings, social forums, etc.) in an attempt to “warn” other young people not to forget what happened.
The book is a clear, factual and strongly argued indictment, arousing more than just a hint of suspicion that those responsible for public order on that fateful day actually provoked the demonstrators into actions which “justified” a drastic police response, thus creating the conditions for what became the “trap” of Piazza Alimonda. But rather than arousing hatred or crying for revenge, the book gives a moral lesson: the right to justice goes far beyond the question of compensation for the victim and involves the very roots of the state and legality in a democratic country. And so, if the memory of a son can be used to ensure that “the killing of a young person in this way can never happen again”, then this use is entirely justified.
Antonella Marrone, journalist, edits a page on non-profit organisations, voluntary work and the tertiary sector in the newspaper l’Unità (also online). She has closely followed the development of the “Movement of Movements” and has written many articles on the anti-G8 demonstrations in Genoa.
These are the words of a song...
Bands on of black, pink, white
Travelling across the night
People from every state
Witness and delegate
of Earthin its silent pain
of children in chains again
Gathered in Genoa
to mourn for our whole sick world
Viva, viva, viva Carlo
Viva, viva, viva Carlo
But the 'crowned heads' of Italy
turned blind eyes to fascisti
letting them infiltrate,
agreeing to leash their hate
Carlo, our Labor's son,
took action without a gun
Now crumpled beneath a sheet
His blood flows into the street
Viva, viva, viva Carlo
Viva, viva, viva Carlo
Later the youth all slept
off shouting and tears they'd wept
Thugs crept into by cracking skulls
What of the sixty-three
savaged in Italy?
And what of the dozen more
no one's heard from?
Viva, viva, viva Carlo
Viva, viva, viva Carlo
Violence is not the way
they'll hear what we have to say
They use it to twist the truth
and split apart every group
But we hold the deeper power
It's growing with every hour
We are their economy
and we own our destiny.
Viva, viva, viva Carlo
Viva, viva, viva Carlo
These are the words of a song written by two young Americans who came to Genoa to demonstrate against the G8 conference. Jennifer (voice) and Sean (guitar). It’s a sad, deep song in true protest music style, bringing to mind Sacco-Vanzetti, the Strawberry Statement and Pete Seeger, with the voice and words used in a way reminiscent of Joan Baez and Violeta Parra. It’s called Viva Carlo! and Haidi Giuliani (Carlo’s mother) loves it. “Now that he’s not here any more,” she says, “this son of mine has become everybody’s.”
“But his life and all the stories about him,” adds Giuliano (his father), “belong just to us and his friends.”
And to his sister, Elena, who’s nearly thirty and lives in Milan with her boyfriend, Fabrizio. She was six when her brother was born and spent a lot of time with him when their mother was out at work.
The talk with Haidi and Giuliano is about facts, remembering what happened (just over a year ago) and being tenacious. Their desperation has turned into a sense of commitment: other young people have to be warned, so that these things don’t happen again. They say that nothing more can be done for Carlo, but for the others it can. For the Giulianis this year has been a year of work and putting together evidence and so, rather than dwelling on Carlo and his life, the talk centres on the year without him, about the right to the truth, about the law and justice: so that the killing of a young person in this way can never happen again. “And this,” Haidi and Giuliano tell me, “is what we’re prepared to use our son’s memory for, in the hope that it will be worthwhile.”
Hours and hours of words, emotions suppressed. Looking out of the window now and again at the same piece of Genoese skyline on a summer’s day, buffeted by wind and rain. The words of Haidi and Giuliano in your head, cautiously trying to feel your way in a family scene which, up to a year ago, was like many others, with its own particular complexities and traditions. A meeting where you have no choice but to “join in”, entering and exiting the maze of personal experiences, following the paths of Carlo’s life: the suffering, the generation gap, politics, chosen lifestyles, the family, everyday life, chance…
There’s a black and white photo with Carlo at the front of the march, in the midst of all the turmoil and clouds of tear gas, just before going into Piazza Alimonda. He appears to be in a state of suspended animation and yet moving. He’s standing still looking in front of him, as if pondering over all this madness. This is Carlo’s existential state: like a baton passed on into the hands of his family, which then takes over his race for a fairer world, rebelling against injustice and fighting for the real truth; because nobody can “justify” the death of a 23- year-old boy. A stone is not a bullet, a street skirmish is not a war and institutions can’t expect to be respected – especially if you’re in your twenties – if they don’t respect the most basic human rights. If you really think the State should have the right to decide over life and death, and if you really think somebody taking part in a street demonstration and throwing stones deserves everything he gets, then you should take it to its logical conclusion and argue that all the men and women condemned to death all over the world have decided to commit suicide. Haidi and Giuliano still believe that the State couldn’t have come about without the Resistance. They say it without rhetoric, proudly, pushing back the fogginess that clouds over events with the passing of time.
Time. A year has gone by since the 20th of July…
Time. A year has gone by since the 20th of July 2001. A year of people, work and thoughts: thinking about what happened, trying to understand Carlo’s reasons. Haidi still says that since his death she has learnt many things. She understands.
And so the “journey” around Italy began, in Carlo’s name. Giuliano, a consummate trade unionist, goes to conferences and trade union meetings. Now 63, he joined the Communist Party in 1960. He always thought Giorgio Amendola was right and will never stray from that line. He believes in gradual processes and conciliation, working out the pros and cons and grasping what you can in order to get what you want. He goes to conferences and speaks of how his rebellious son voted for the Ulivo Centre-Left coalition on the 13th of May 2001, to stop the Right. The point of this anecdote is not to show how in the end Carlo went and voted Ulivo like a good boy, but quite simply that Carlo went to vote at all (after two elections in which he didn’t). Young as he was, he understood what unity meant and how the slow old Left needed his help, ideals and generosity. Elena, his sister, voted in Milan. Giuliano voted “for” because he has another way of reading the facts of politics and is convinced about it, but, as Haidi says: “Carlo and I had agreed to vote “against”, to try to stop the Right winning the election”.
The Right won the election and life continued, despite the disappointment. ...
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